All or Nothing
by Kaylle
Summary: As Lois's wedding to Luthor approaches, Lois and Clark reach an impasse. Winner of the 2003 Kerth for Best Short Story.


All or Nothing  
by Kaylle   
Rated PG  
  
Author's Note: What happens when you're without a real   
computer or TV for several days straight, with a song you   
don't even particularly like stuck in your head? Well, you   
do *something* to keep your sanity! A big thank you to   
Kathy and Carol for beta-reading on very short notice.   
  
// indicates thoughts.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
"You know I'd fight for you  
But how can I fight someone who isn't even there?"  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She smiled faintly as he left to pursue his crisis. Her   
fingers rose absently to her lips, remembering the touch of   
his kiss there, and she closed her eyes.   
  
Would it always be like this? A kiss goodbye as he went on   
his way, his mind on greater things? Not for the first   
time, she felt a twinge of doubt.   
  
"You chose this," she reminded herself aloud, a little   
louder than she'd intended. "You chose it," she repeated,   
softer now. She'd known what she was accepting, the good   
and the bad. Was it still what she wanted?   
  
She frowned a little, following his footsteps out the door.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Clark made a face, crumpled the sheet of paper, and tossed   
it away How did Lois do it? He'd been attempting to write--   
or at least *start*-- his novel for weeks now. Lois seemed   
to have no difficulty writing, although he'd yet to see the   
product of her labor. But every time he sat down to work,   
all he could think about was her.   
  
/And now you're doing it again,/ he thought ruefully.  
  
He sighed, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his eyes.   
He missed her. As angry and hurt and rejected as he felt,   
he missed her so much. He hadn't realized how much he'd   
grown to need her over the last year. But she'd made her   
choices, and so had he.   
  
His gaze fell on the typewriter before him, on loan from   
Perry 'for inspiration.' His writing wasn't really any   
further along than it had been when he started. He was   
simply chipping away at his savings by staying in his   
apartment unemployed. Without her, without the Planet,   
there was nothing left of the life he'd struggled to build   
for himself. Nothing to hold him in Metropolis any longer.   
Perhaps it was time to move on, as he always had before.   
  
Something in him recoiled at the thought, and though he   
didn't like to admit it, Clark knew it was only Lois that   
kept him here. Some irrational hope that she'd walk through   
that door, let him hold her, assure him that she'd made a   
terrible mistake. That it was him she wanted. Not Luthor,   
and not Superman.   
  
Superman. He laughed bitterly. If she turned away from   
Luthor, it would only be to pine for her hero. Clark   
himself was a distant third in her affections, second even   
to his own creation. Some nights, remembering, he thought   
he hated her.   
  
But it didn't last. It couldn't. Not when his heart was   
filled with her, when her face and the scent of her perfume   
filtered through even into his dreams. When all he'd ever   
wanted was to see her look at Clark the way she looked at   
Superman.   
  
He sighed again, tiredly and sadly. Threading another sheet   
of paper into the typewriter, he tried to begin again.   
  
There came a knock on the door.   
  
Clark turned and scanned the other side. Lois stood on the   
front step, her hands twisting nervously in front of her.   
She looked uneasy, and despite his own discomfort he moved   
inexorably to the door to let her in.   
  
"Lois," he said simply as she entered, not sure what   
greeting was appropriate. They hadn't seen each other since   
Perry's retirement party, and their conversation there had   
been unpleasant, to say the least.   
  
"Clark," she replied, apparently equally hesitant. "I-- I   
was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd stop by," she   
explained, her words rushed. "I thought maybe we could   
talk."   
  
"Come on in," he agreed, gesturing her down the stairs.   
"I'll make some coffee."   
  
Lois nodded absently and took a seat on the edge of the   
couch. She was quiet as he moved through the kitchen.   
"Having problems with the novel?" she asked at last.   
  
He glanced back, following her gaze to the haphazard mess   
of paper balls scattered on the desk. "A little," he   
admitted, embarrassed. "I guess I'm having trouble   
focusing."   
  
Lois nodded. "A lot has happened... It'll take us all a   
while to settle down to a routine again."   
  
He frowned, wondering what sort of routine he could find   
without her in it. His gaze fell on the crumpled pile of   
discarded pages, and he shook his head. "How's life at   
LNN?" he asked, more out of a sense of etiquette than a   
desire to hear about her life at Luthor's network.   
  
She didn't seem to want to talk about it either. "Good,   
good," she replied, falling silent once more.  
  
Clark returned from the kitchen with two mugs and seated   
himself across from her. Careful to keep any inflection   
from his voice, he asked, "And the wedding plans are going   
well?" She hesitated, and he flinched from the rush of   
emotions that went through him, hope and fear and   
bitterness all at once.  
  
"Clark," she said slowly, "I've really missed you."  
  
"I've missed you, too."  
  
"And I guess I missed being able to talk to you about,   
well, anything." She smiled a little. "You were always   
there for me, even when I didn't want you to be."   
  
He watched her in silence, unsure of where she was going.   
  
"And I know how you feel about my marrying Lex. I didn't   
come here for a lecture. I just... I guess I wanted someone   
to talk to, to know that you're listening and you care."  
  
It was on the tip of his tongue to say he'd always cared,   
but he found he couldn't say it. Not now. He nodded. She   
studied his face for a moment, as if expecting a stronger   
response; at last she looked away. "I guess it's not fair   
of me," she conceded softly. "I know I... I know how things   
are. Between us. How you-- well, you know what you said,"   
she finished miserably. "And I'm sorry..."   
  
He rose, turning angrily away. "Sorry for what, Lois? Sorry   
you don't love me? Sorry Superman doesn't love you? Sorry   
your fairy-tale wedding isn't turning out how you planned?"  
  
She flinched at the words, but she didn't strike back or   
stalk out as he'd expected. "Clark," she said softly,   
brokenly, and he turned back. She was still seated at the   
edge of the couch, eyes wide and shining. "Clark, I--   
you're my best friend. Please."   
  
With a sigh he sat back down. "I'm sorry," he said   
resignedly. "That was-- cruel of me."   
  
She looked down, hands fidgeting in her lap. After a   
moment, she said quietly, "I guess you talked to Superman."  
  
He frowned; he didn't want her thinking Clark and Superman   
talked about her behind her back. "Not really," he   
answered. "You *did* ask me to find him for you. I guess I   
knew what you wanted."   
  
She shook her head. "I should never have asked you to do   
that. Not after..."   
  
"No," he agreed, but there was no malice or accusation in   
his voice. Only a dull sense of pain.   
  
"Anyway," she said, wiping her eyes, "you were right. He   
doesn't love me. I'm not even sure he likes me anymore."   
  
Clark recalled their meeting, the brusque front he'd worn   
to hide the hurt. The cruel things he'd said, unable to   
think of anything beyond the pain. "I'm sure that's not   
true," he said.   
  
"He said I didn't know him well enough," she continued, her   
voice quavering. "But I do! I've known him for almost a   
year now. And I-- I've been his friend..." She dropped her   
eyes. "I just-- I love him, Clark, I really do. And he   
doesn't want me," she finished softly.   
  
"Lois," he protested, unable to confirm or deny what she'd   
said. He moved to sit beside her, pulled her close and   
wrapped his arms about her shoulders. She shuddered against   
him as she cried, and he tried not to think about the way   
she felt in his embrace, the soft, warm curve of her body.   
Tried not to remember that she was crying out her broken   
heart-- a heart he himself had broken. And that she had   
broken his.   
  
"I'm sorry," she said at last, pulling away, wiping   
awkwardly at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Clark, I know you don't   
want to hear this. It wasn't fair of me to come to you."   
She rose to her feet, moving quickly to the door. "I should   
go."   
  
"Did you love him?"   
  
He'd surprised even himself. When Lois turned back, he   
hadn't moved, wasn't even looking at her, He was staring   
resignedly, tiredly at her empty place on the sofa. "S-  
Superman?" she stammered.   
  
"No," he replied. "Luthor."   
  
Unbidden, her fingers rose again to her lips. "I'm marrying   
him."   
  
He shook his head. "That's not what I asked."   
  
"I-- it's none of your business," she said, but the attempt   
was half-hearted.   
  
Clark looked up at her then and spread his hands wide.   
"Hey, Lois, you wanted to talk. I didn't ask you to come."   
  
She closed her eyes. He was right. He deserved the truth,   
if nothing else. "I-- No," she reluctantly admitted at   
last. "I don't think I do. Not really."   
  
"But you're marrying him." His voice was flat and empty, no   
insinuation in his tone, no scorn or anger or pity.   
  
"Yes," she said. "Yes, I am."   
  
"Why?"  
  
She hesitated, as if putting her feelings into words at   
last meant she couldn't deny them any longer. "Superman   
didn't want me," she whispered. "Lex did."   
  
Clark sighed, his eyes closed. "Did I mean so little to   
you, then?"  
  
Lois winced. She couldn't say the implication hadn't   
occurred to her. "It's not that, Clark," she started, but   
for the life of her she couldn't explain herself. He waved   
a hand to stop her.   
  
"I can't do this anymore, Lois. I can't go halfway with   
you. You know what? You made your choice. I mean, really,   
how can I compete with either of them? A superhero and the   
third-richest man in the world, even if the one's a   
cardboard cutout and the other's a criminal?" He gave a   
short laugh. "I can't even believe I tried." He got to his   
feet. "And, really, if that's all you wanted, Lois, I don't   
know why I bothered."   
  
She paled. "Clark--" she started again, but he cut her off.   
  
"You should go," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Go   
back to him." He ushered her quickly back up the stairs and   
opened the door. "I don't think we have anything more to   
say," he finished, pressing her gently but firmly into the   
hallway. "Goodbye, Lois."   
  
"Clark," she protested, but the door swung closed and he   
was gone.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
He watched her as Perry led her from the church. She was   
crying a little, half-dazed, and Perry put his arm around   
her. She was obviously in shock; her wedding had been   
ruined. She was mumbling something through her tears, and   
Perry was trying to reassure her. Weakened as he was, he   
couldn't hear what they were saying, but the distraught   
pain in her expression was visible even at this distance.   
  
She hadn't changed her mind, then.   
  
She had admitted she did not love the man. But the pain and   
regret in her eyes confirmed to him that she'd still wanted   
to marry Lex Luthor. Perhaps the promise of the life he   
could give her had been substitute enough for love.   
  
Above the sounds of reporters' questions and photographers'   
cameras, he heard her call his name quite clearly. "Where's   
Clark?" She needed him. She needed her best friend. In the   
past, he'd have gathered her close to him, wrapped his arms   
tight around her and let her sob out her pain against his   
shoulder. Now, he couldn't go to her. He couldn't do it.   
  
She scanned the crowd for him, desperate, but he was well   
hidden. Perry was saying something else, and she raised a   
hand to her face. His arm tightened around her shoulder,   
pulling her into an awkward embrace.   
  
She wasn't injured; Luthor hadn't hurt her or taken her   
hostage in all the chaos. Physically, she would be okay.   
Clark knew that now. For him, that was enough. It had to   
be.   
  
He turned away from her, and disappeared into the crowd.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The telephone shrilled once more and reluctantly he reached   
for it. "Hello?"   
  
There was a moment of silence, and then she said, "I was   
frightened of you."   
  
Clark closed his eyes. He'd known it was her even before he   
answered. He didn't want to talk to her. "What?"   
  
"I was frightened," she said again, softly.   
  
Tiredly, he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Lois, I   
don't really want to play tonight."   
  
"Then talk to me, Clark," she replied insistently.   
"Please."   
  
"There's nothing to say."   
  
"There's everything to say! What are you so afraid of,   
Clark, that you can't even talk to me?"   
  
"Fine," he said at last, too weary of arguing. "You want to   
talk, I'll be here waiting."   
  
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," she agreed, and hung up   
the phone.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She'd called him for days. Most of the time he hadn't   
answered, and when he did it was only to tell her, politely   
but firmly, that he didn't want to talk about it. As time   
went by the anger had softened from his voice, leaving only   
resignation and sorrow. But still he'd refused her.   
  
She'd had a lot of time to think these last five days since   
the failed wedding. Time to evaluate and reevaluate the   
things she'd said and done. And regardless of everything   
else around them, Clark was her best friend, and she'd hurt   
him. She needed to understand why she'd done it.   
  
Now, she thought she knew.   
  
The truth wasn't easy, wasn't what she wanted. But there it   
was, and now that she understood it, she couldn't deny it   
any longer. Climbing the stairs to Clark's apartment, she   
drew a deep breath. She knocked once and after a moment he   
opened the door.   
  
"Hi," she said, suddenly shy.   
  
"Hi," he replied. His eyes seemed darker than before,   
shadowed, and he didn't smile as she moved past him in the   
doorway.   
  
"You, ah, asked if you meant so little to me," she said,   
unwilling to waste time on pleasantries.   
  
He did not speak or nod, but his eyes were on her as he   
followed her down into the living room.   
  
"And I should have told you then, but I didn't really   
understand until now," she continued, pacing slowly through   
the room. "But the truth was, you meant more than either   
one of them. And that made you the easiest to lose."  
  
Clark made a face. "That doesn't make any sense."   
  
She smiled a little. "I know it doesn't. But it's the   
truth."  
  
"Lois," he warned.   
  
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'll try to explain.   
  
"I loved Superman," she started tentatively, knowing he   
didn't want to hear it again but hoping he'd let her   
finish. "I really cared for him. But he was right, Clark, I   
didn't really know him at all. I don't know what he likes,   
or where he lives, or what he does when he's not at an   
emergency. I don't even know his name," she finished   
softly. "Superman. I named him that, because I didn't know.  
  
"What I did know was that he was honest and just and   
caring," she continued, still pacing slowly through the   
room. He couldn't hurt me the way other people-- other   
loves-- hurt me in the past. It wasn't in his nature. And I   
was never close enough to him to let him hurt me, even if   
he would have. So he was doubly safe."  
  
Clark was watching her carefully, but he seemed to have   
accepted her explanation so far. Drawing a breath, she   
pressed on. "Now, Lex is a different story. I admit I   
misjudged him. But besides that, I didn't care for him. Not   
in any way that mattered. Maybe you were right, maybe I am   
shallow. Or maybe I just wanted stability now that the   
Planet is gone, and Lex seemed the most likely man to offer   
it. But in his own way, Lex was safe, too. He had no power   
over me. He couldn't hurt me if I didn't love him."   
  
"You'd marry him for that? Because he couldn't hurt you?"   
Clark asked, surprised and dismayed that she could have   
such a dark, bleak outlook on love.  
  
"No," she said softly, looking away. "I thought I could."   
  
"Lois," he frowned. "I saw you after the wedding. You   
were... upset," he said at last, struggling for the word.   
  
"I said no," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken.   
  
"You what?"   
  
"I said no," she repeated. "I told him I couldn't marry   
him."   
  
He blinked in surprise. "Why?"  
  
She studied his expression for a moment, and then her eyes   
slid away. "I didn't love him," she said carefully. As if   
there were something more she could have said. "And of   
course I was upset, Clark," she continued. "No matter what   
I said or did, I didn't expect him to be a criminal! I   
didn't expect him to be arrested right there at the   
wedding! I was in shock," she finished softly. "And if you   
saw me and didn't realize that, you were only seeing what   
you wanted to see."   
  
He sighed. "Lois, what was I supposed to think?"  
  
"You knew I didn't love him," she replied. "I told you   
that. I was only marrying him because he was safe."   
  
"Which is a terrible reason to marry anyone," he started   
insistently, but he stopped himself. He had no right to   
judge the choices she'd made.   
  
She turned to look at him for a long moment, as if waiting   
out his anger. "But you, Clark," she whispered at last,   
"you weren't safe at all."  
  
His breath caught, shock and hope stilling it in his   
throat. Daring to believe he might understand her, he took   
a step closer. "Lois..."  
  
Instinctively she backed away, her hands rising defensively   
before her. "You're my best friend," she said, and he   
wasn't sure if it was an explanation or a warning reminder.   
"You've always been there for me," she continued when he   
didn't approach her again. "Encouraging, reassuring,   
listening. I value your judgment. I valued our partnership.   
I've told you things I've never willingly shared with   
anyone." She shook her head. "I've given you every secret I   
have. And in your hands they became weapons, whether you   
used them or not."   
  
"You know I wouldn't do that to you," he protested   
immediately, disappointment burning in his chest. He'd   
misunderstood her.   
  
Lois tipped her head to the side. "Maybe not," she   
conceded. "But you're not perfect, Clark. We all get angry,   
say things we don't mean."  
  
He dropped his gaze. He *had* said some hurtful things the   
last time they'd talked. No matter how true they'd been, or   
how much she'd deserved them, he regretted being   
deliberately cruel.   
  
"You knew me, Clark," she continued softly. "You understood   
me better than I wanted you to. If you wanted to hurt me,   
you could. Easily."   
  
She was coming slowly closer now, and he tried to stay   
immobile, not wanting to spook her again. "And I guess I   
*did * always know how you felt about me," she admitted. "I   
mean, I suspected it, at least. But you were my friend,   
Clark. To risk that on some physical attraction, and lose   
it, would have hurt too much."   
  
He understood that; it was why he'd never said anything.   
But she hadn't simply ignored whatever feelings she might   
have, she'd acted in deliberate defiance of them. "Better   
to throw the friendship away all together?" he asked   
pointedly.   
  
She looked away. "I know, it doesn't make much sense."   
  
"Lois," he said, "what I feel for you isn't just a physical   
attraction." He hesitated, and then concluded softly, "I   
don't know what you're feeling."   
  
She looked solemnly at him, stepping close, her hands   
coming to rest on his chest. "I do care for you, Clark,"   
she assured him. "And I-- I *am* attracted," she admitted,   
her eyes watching the path of her fingers as they spread   
against the cotton of his shirt. "I don't know what that   
adds up to, but it's not what you want from me."   
  
His hands rose to cover hers. "Let me decide what it is I   
want," he insisted. "I can be patient--"  
  
"I'm frightened."   
  
She'd spoken so quietly he wouldn't have heard her at all   
with human hearing. "Lois," he began.  
  
"No, Clark, don't you see? All those reasons, they're still   
true now. And if I-- if we-- if I let myself fall in love   
with you, you'd be that much more dangerous."   
  
His arms moved around her, pulling her tight to him. "I'd   
be with you," he said softly. "You wouldn't be falling   
alone."   
  
She nodded mutely, unconvinced. "You have to trust me,   
Lois," he continued quietly. "I know how hard that is,   
believe me. But it's part of being friends, even without a   
more serious relationship to consider. You have to accept   
that I don't want to hurt you. Can you trust me?"   
  
"I don't know why you'd want me anyway," she protested.   
"Superman and Luthor's castoff."  
  
"Hey," he said sharply, pulling back to look her in the   
eye. "Don't say that. You are not anyone's 'castoff,' do   
you hear me? Besides, I thought you were going to let me   
decide what I wanted." He cupped a hand gently under her   
chin. "And what I want is you," he said softly. "Not as a   
friend, and not as a... an attraction. I want everything   
you can give me. And I'll wait as long as you need, Lois, I   
can give you time. I just-- I can't walk away from you   
again. Not now and not ever. So I guess what I need to know   
is, what do *you* want?"   
  
Lois looked up at him with shining eyes. She'd come here to   
explain, to apologize, to plead. Instead he'd accepted her   
without question and laid himself out for her a second   
time. He was watching her expectantly now, and though he   
tried to hide it, she could feel his tension.   
  
"I don't know," she admitted in a whisper, but she   
stretched up to brush her lips lightly over his. The   
contact was as faint as it was fleeting, but she knew   
nonetheless that it was a mistake. She'd always known. They   
couldn't go halfway. It wasn't fair of her to ask it of   
him, and it wasn't what she wanted.   
  
/All or nothing.../   
  
With a tiny sound, she pressed forward again, let herself   
kiss him properly, fully. He hesitated at first, not   
wanting to push her, but in a moment his hands moved   
carefully to the small of her back, pulling her to him in   
an embrace that was more loving than passionate. Lois let   
her arms twine around his neck, her heart speeding in her   
chest, her mind and body reeling at the wash of emotion   
filling her. She'd never felt anything so powerful, so warm   
and vibrant and beautiful, and the wake of it left her   
gasping.   
  
Was that love, then? That heavy sweep of sensation that   
assailed her when his lips met hers? Or the unexpected   
knowledge that he meant more to her in this moment than   
anyone ever had? The sudden rush of protective tenderness   
that rose in her when he whispered her name, desperately,   
disbelieving? She wasn't sure, but when at last he pulled   
away to look at her, she heard herself answering him, heard   
her voice small but sure. "Yes, Clark..."   
  
"Yes?" he repeated tentatively, his eyes still faintly   
clouded with emotion. "Yes what, Lois?"  
  
She smiled a little, hesitant. "Yes, I trust you," she said   
softly.   
  
He smiled at her then, gently, warmly. "You said you'd give   
me time," she continued. "I-- I want to try. Being   
together, I mean." She spread her hand over his chest once   
more, shyly dropping her gaze. "I don't know for sure what   
will happen," she warned. "I don't really know how I feel   
yet. I do know you're my best friend. And I know I've never   
felt this way before," she admitted, "the way I feel when   
you touch me... I don't know what that means."   
  
"It means we'll take things slowly," he said. "As slowly as   
it takes, until we're both comfortable. Believe me, I've   
never felt anything like that, either," he confided, one   
hand cupping her cheek. "But I'd like to try it again   
sometime," he said, his grin teasing now.   
  
She smiled a little as well, the tension of the moment   
finally lifting. "Well, we'll have to see what we can do   
about that," she replied.   
  
He pulled her close again, wrapping his arms around her the   
way he'd done countless times before, as partners, as   
friends. The way he hoped to do countless times in the   
future, as something closer. "Yes, we will," he assured   
her. "Together."   
  
"Mmm," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. "That   
sounds so nice..."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
The song in question is All or Nothing, performed by O-Town   
and written by Steve Mac and Wayne Hunter. 


End file.
